


House of Memories

by PaintingWithDarkness



Series: Bluepulse Week 2020 [2]
Category: Young Justice (Cartoon), Young Justice (Comics), Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Bart's POV, Bluepulse, Bluepulse Week 2020, Day 2, Established Relationship, Future Fic, I put my OC of Bart and Jaime's daughter in here too, M/M, Memories, inspired by House of Memories by Pan!c at the Disco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:21:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24874525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaintingWithDarkness/pseuds/PaintingWithDarkness
Summary: Baby, we built this house of memories.Take my picture now.Shake it til you see it.And when your fantasies become your legacyPromise me a placeIn your house of memories.
Relationships: Bart Allen/Jaime Reyes
Series: Bluepulse Week 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1799851
Comments: 6
Kudos: 16





	House of Memories

**Author's Note:**

> This is my contribution for Day 2 of Bluepulse Week! It was inspired by the song House of Memories by Pan!c at the Disco, and I listened to it on repeat while writing this. Imma include a youtube link to the song [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j9N-v3KURSc), if y'all want to give it a listen. I think it helps set the tone of this fic quite well. The summary is quite literally just the chorus.

A wave of nostalgia washed over Bart as he shuffled down the barren hallway. Faded, hazelnut-colored, square-shaped patches stood out starkly against the brown wall. Tiny holes had been pocked into the paint in a neat row just above his head. They were uneven in size; the largest patch was the one dead center. 

Their wedding photo had hung there. Bart had been dressed in a white suit; Jaime in black. Both of them had worn matching red ties, and blue Forget Me Nots pinned to their lapels. They were holding hands, fingers interlaced, facing one another. Jaime’s head was thrown back, caught mid-laugh, and Bart was wearing the happiest smile on his face he had possibly ever worn in his life. 

_ “Come on, lovebirds! Now that the ceremony’s finished, it’s time to take some pictures before we head to the reception!”  _

_ Bart squeezed Jaime’s shoulders and leaned up to give him one last kiss before taking his hand and eagerly dragging him out of the chapel to follow along behind the photographer.  _

_ “Whoa, Cariño!” Jaime laughed, stumbling a little in his attempts at keeping up with Bart’s brisk pace, “Slow down a little!”  _

_ “No time, Babe. I don’t know about you, but there’s a huge cake calling out to me, and I can’t wait to sink my teeth into it… and the knife.”  _

_ Jaime laughed again. When he had first told Bart about all of the wedding traditions of the past, the one he had been the most excited about was the cake. Being the first ones to cut into the behemoth confection, and being entitled to the first slice? Totally crash!  _

_ “How does this spot look?” The photographer stopped walking once they’d reached the middle of a grassy field. The vibrant verdant stands reached about halfway up Bart’s shins, and wildflowers were scattered about liberally all around them.  _

_ “It’s perfect,” Jaime said, turning towards Bart to get his opinion.  _

_ Bart smiled and nodded. Even if Jaime had wanted to get married in a sandy desert, and their wedding photos had been taken against a dry, monochrome background, Bart wouldn’t have cared. All that mattered was that Jaime was happy, and the light shining in his beautiful brown eyes in that moment definitely said that he was.  _

_ The photographer quickly set up her equipment once given the go ahead from the newlyweds, and positioned them for the photos.  _

_ There was a handful where they were simply staring into one another’s eyes adoringly, and another batch which captured them sharing a loving kiss. The photographer was just about to reposition them for a few more when a slight breeze had picked up, blowing everything around.  _

_ “Aww!” Bart complained, raising his eyes mournfully upwards. “I spent 1.6 seconds on this hairdo!”  _

_ Bart didn’t have the slightest clue why, but apparently his husband found his remark hilarious. Jaime’s head kicked back, and Bart’s favorite sound in the world spilled forth from between his lips.  _

_ Bart’s own curled up into a brilliant smile, not because he found his own statement funny, but because he was elated to see Jaime so happy.  _

That day seemed so long ago now. Bart paused, raising a pale, wrinkled hand and resting it against the faded spot. He closed his eyes. It was ironic really, that they had chosen Forget Me Nots for their boutonnières. Even if he tried, Bart could never forget that moment. And even if the flowers that had somehow served as an omen lost their magic, or the surprisingly sharp memory he had managed to keep despite old age failed, the golden ring around his finger would always be a quick reminder, and the engraving of ‘ _ Forever Yours’ _ followed by their wedding date would serve as a sign of permanency, even if everything else did fade away. 

With a sigh, Bart continued down the hallway, pausing once again when a particular wooden floorboard squeaked beneath his socked foot. It had been that way ever since he and Jaime had moved in. Time and time again, Jaime had complained about replacing the damn thing, but year after year had gone by, and neither of them had ever put in the work to actually get it done. 

_ Jaime had been standing in the middle of their kitchen, putting the finishing touches on what Bart assumed to be a dish made specially for him. It was their anniversary after all, and Jaime cooking him dinner had become somewhat of a tradition on this day each year. The tradition also dictated that Bart surprise his husband with roses and a card, which was what he was attempting to do.  _

_ Bart had snuck in the back door, rather than going through the front like he usually did, to avoid Jaime seeing him too early. Bart was just lucky Khaji Da had finally caught on. Back when they’d still been dating, Bart had been incapable of surprising Jaime. The scarab had always ruined any carefully thought-out plans Bart had constructed. Whenever he had tried to sneak up on his lover, Khaji Da immediately alerted Jaime to the speedster’s presence, effectively destroying any element of surprise. It was only after they’d been married a few years, and Bart and Jaime had explained to the scarab that surprises on special occasions were actually nice, that the AI had begun working with Bart, and allowing him to shock Jaime with gifts and gestures when he deemed them appropriate.  _

_ Bart was holding a bouquet of red roses behind his back, tied together with a blue ribbon. In his other hand, he held a card he had made himself, with a loving message written inside. He was about halfway down the hall, having taken special measures along the way to ensure that Jaime would not catch him before the right moment. He had removed his shoes at the back door to avoid making excessive noise while he walked, and was being careful to avoid knocking into any of the picture frames on the wall. God forbid he sent any of those crashing to the floor. Not only would Jaime be angry with him for destroying one of their possessions, but the surprise would be effectively ruined.  _

_ So far though, everything had gone off without a hitch. Bart was only a few steps away from his goal. Jaime’s back was turned to him, and he was effectively distracted with the cooking, humming a little tune to himself as he spooned sauce over the top of whatever meal he had prepared.  _

_ Bart smiled. He loved watching Jaime in moments like this. Seeing his husband so stress-free and relaxed was rare. Jaime always seemed to carry some kind of tension, whether it was about money, or his job, or even while they were superheroing. Bart could always see it coiled in Jaime’s shoulders and spine, and he had half a mind to blame the scarab for it. Jaime had told him that having Khaji Da speaking to him in his mind 24/7 was both a blessing and a curse. Having the AI there to help him remember important things and provide him with a boundless well of information was quite useful, but sometimes having that second voice in his head was just too much to bear. There was a reason after all, why people that claimed to hear voices in their heads, were usually sent away to mental institutions.  _

_ In spite of the stress however, Bart always seemed to know the right ways to calm Jaime down and relax him. Whenever they were together, Bart could physically see the stress leaving his lover and the look of relief on Jaime’s face that followed.  _

_ Bart knew Jaime wasn’t a big fan of surprises, but the appreciation and love he could see swimming in his husband’s eyes that always followed Bart taking the time to plan out romantic gestures like these was always worth it. That was why he was so eager to give him the bouquet and card.  _

_ Bart was right at the mouth of the hallway. Just a few more steps and he would be able to wrap his arms around his husband. Unfortunately, it was the next step that ruined everything.  _

_ Damn that creaky floorboard!  _

_ As soon as Bart’s foot came down on the old, scuffed plank of wood, he winced. He held his breath, hoping Jaime hadn’t heard it.  _

_ No such luck. Jaime had armored up, no doubt startled by the noise, and had a plasma cannon pointed straight at him.  _

_ Bart gave a nervous chuckle. “Surprise?” he offered weakly.  _

_ Jaime immediately willed the blue and black carapace back into the beetle. “Bart?” He blinked blankly at the auburn-haired man.  _

_ Bart’s shoulders slumped. “Happy Anniversary, Babe. It was supposed to be a surprise, but this damn squeaky floorboard ruined it!” His green eyes narrowed as he glared at the culprit.  _

_ Jaime laughed as he met Bart halfway, wrapping him up into a hug. “It’s your fault for not getting it replaced, Marido,” he said. “But the thought was nice.” Jaime leaned down to kiss Bart, both of them smiling into it.  _

_ When they broke away from one another, Bart said, “You can replace it just as easily as I can, y’know.” He handed Jaime the card and roses.  _

_ Jaime smiled before turning to gingerly place the bouquet on the table. He then carefully removed Bart’s card from the envelope and commented on the artwork before reading the message. By the time he was done, his beautiful brown eyes were shining. He pulled Bart back in and kissed him passionately.  _

_ “That was really sweet, Cariño.”  _

_ Bart blushed a little. “Everything I wrote is true,” he said. He leaned forward, touching foreheads with his husband. “Happy Anniversary, Jaime,” he whispered.  _

_ Jaime’s grip on him tightened. “Happy Anniversary, Bart.”  _

Bart cast a playful glare down at the floorboard before making the active choice to avoid it, and stepping around it. When he looked up again, a wistful frown set itself upon his lips. He stepped forward into the living room. 

The beige shag carpet swayed beneath his feet as Bart shuffled forward, coming to a stop just near the fall wall of the room. When he looked down, he could see four circular imprints in the carpet; evidence that something heavy had been sitting there for quite a while. The paint was chipped on the wall opposite to where Bart was now standing. Two worn lines showed that something had been leaning against it, wearing down the colorful coat as time had passed. 

Bart had loved their couch, and Jaime was the one who had insisted that the TV cabinet needed to be directly opposite, for the optimal viewing angle. When Bart had suggested putting it in the corner instead, Khaji Da had taken over, and he’d gotten a lecture about how much more strain such an angle would put on his eyes. Given his current age, and the fact that he could still see perfectly well without glasses, Bart was inclined to believe Khaji Da had made the whole thing up. 

_ “Cariño, stop squirming. You’re the one who wanted to watch this movie.” _

_ Bart continued shifting. “I knoooow, but it’s getting boooring.” He drew out the long vowels in the sentence.  _

_ Jaime sighed. “It’s only an hour and twenty minutes. Besides, you were practically begging me to go see it when it came out in theatres.”  _

_ Bart turned his eyes away from the television and towards his husband. The sharp angles of Jaime’s face were shadowed over by the dim lights, and his sepia orbs were glowing with the rays of color cast from the TV screen. He nuzzled his head into the crook between Jaime’s shoulder and jaw, and began leaving little kisses against the side of Jaime’s neck.  _

_ After a minute or two, Jaime sighed again. “You’re being distracting. You know that?”  _

_ Bart hummed, and continued with the lazy kisses. “I know.”  _

_ Jaime leaned forward to grab the remote from the coffee table, where it was sitting amongst their half-filled popcorn bowls. With a quick click of his thumb, he paused the movie. When he sat back up again, Jaime grabbed Bart by the hips and pulled him along as he laid down on the couch. Jaime settled with his upper back leaning against the armrest, and his legs stretched out straight and spread, so that Bart could lay between them on his stomach, and they could face one another.  _

_ Bart laid both of his hands on Jaime’s chest, one on top of the other, and propped his chin up. He cast his chartreuse eyes upwards to meet Jaime’s own amber, and gave him a lazy smile. “Hey,” he drawled.  _

_ “Hey, yourself,” Jaime replied back, in the same languid tone. His arms wrapped around Bart, drawing him upwards along his body so that the angle wasn’t as much of a strain when they met for a kiss.  _

_ Bart closed his eyes and sighed into it. He could feel his husband’s warm, broad hands slipping under his shirt to rub gently at his back, fingertips ghosting over the knobs of his spine, as he buried his own in the short, thick mass of Jaime’s raven hair. The kiss was all soft lips, a tender roll of tongues, and quiet smacking noises filling the air between them. There was no rush; Bart doubted either one of them had the energy to go all the way tonight— but just being so close to Jaime, having their bodies pressed together, and being able to kiss him like this, and indulge in the love radiating between them was more than enough.  _

_ “I love you,” Bart breathed, when they pulled apart.  _

_ Jaime’s chocolate eyes were shining with adoration when he whispered back, “Te amo también, Amorcito.”  _

_ Bart hummed contentedly, and snuggled into Jaime’s warm chest. The older man wrapped an arm around him, and used the other to pull the blanket down from off the back of the couch, and drape it over the two of them.  _

_ That night, they ended up falling asleep like that on the couch, with the flickering light from the television illuminating them, and abandoned snack bowls left half-empty on the coffee table.  _

Bart sighed wistfully as he continued on his way throughout the house. From the living room, it was a few steps to get to the bottom of the staircase. There he paused for a moment. He had to prepare himself. 

Overall, old age had done little weather to Bart’s body. His vision had remained the same as it was in his youth, his hearing was spectacularly sharp, and he was still very able-bodied, not needing the assistance of a cane or walker to get around. The only problem was his artificial knee. Sometimes, the prosthetic acted up. More so, now that it had faced the wear and tear of many years of superheroing, and Bart moving at superhuman speeds. Normal prosthetics weren’t made to hold up to such abuse. If Bart had to make an educated guess, he would actually say his artificial knee was due for a replacement, especially now that he was retired from the League. The thing holding him back however, was the fact that getting the surgery would drudge up old memories, and he wasn’t one to dwell on the past. 

Going up and down the stairs had become a challenge within the last year or so, due to his janky knee. Cold weather also caused its fair share of problems for the prosthesis, and holding the same position for too long could cause the joint to lock up on him. He longed for the days when taking the steps two at a time was as easy as walking on solid ground. 

_ “Bart! Nathaley! We’re going to be late!” Bart heard Jaime calling them from downstairs.  _

_ “Coming, Babe!” he shouted back, tugging on his boot, before he came running out of their bedroom.  _

_ When Bart reached the top of the stairs, he grabbed onto the wooden banister and threw himself onto it sideways, sliding down it on his rear. When he neared the bottom, Bart used the momentum to launch himself off of the stairs completely, and skidded to a stop next to his stressing husband.  _

_ Jaime was pacing back and forth in front of the staircase with his arms crossed. The Blue Beetle armor encased his body up to the neck. Bart himself was wearing the Flash uniform which had been passed down to him from his grandfather, but with a few personal modifications.  _

_ “You know I hate it when you do that,” Jaime commented, leveling Bart with a stare.  _

_ Bart simply blinked back at him and shrugged. “Don’t stress yourself out over it, Babe. Worry about the big things. Pick your battles.”  _

_ Jaime’s glare narrowed, and Bart swore he could see a vein throbbing in his temple. “It’s dangerous. I don’t want you to fall.”  _

_ Bart flapped a hand. “I’ll be fine. I do it all the time. And if I do fall? My hypermetabolism will heal any damage.”  _

_ Jaime shook his head. “Missing the point, ese. Besides, you’re setting a—”  _

_ Both his and Bart’s attention returned to the staircase. They heard the screech of their daughter’s blue and white boots as she halted at the top of the steps before flinging herself onto the banister in the same fashion Bart had previously.  _

_ Jaime buried his face in his hands.  _

_ When Nat got to the bottom, Jaime turned the Disappointed Father Look _ _ on her. Bart wanted to step in and tell Jaime not to go so hard on her, but he knew it was no use. His husband stressed over everything, and call Bart a hypocrite, but seeing their daughter copy him and use the rail rather than taking the stairs the old fashioned way had scared him a tad. He guessed he could understand now why Jaime hated seeing him do it so much.  _

_ “¿Cuántas veces tengo que pedirte que no corras en la casa? Y ¿quién te enseñó que la barandilla era un tobogán?”  _

_ Bart didn’t understand a word Jaime said, but he could tell by the tone that he was scolding Nathaley, probably for running in the house. Back when he and Jaime had still been dating, and he had gone over to the Reyes house to visit, Bianca always yelled after him, “¡No corras en la casa!” every time she’d caught Bart using his superspeed. Once he and Jaime had moved in together, he’d often found his husband chastising him in the same way. It went for Nathaley as well. There was no running in Abuela Bianca’s house, and there was no running in the Allen-Reyes household either.  _

_ Nathaley’s brown eyes slid to the ground. Her fingers twisted together. “Pero, Daddy siempre corre en la casa, y acabo de verlo deslizarse por la barandilla.”  _

_ Jaime’s gaze swung back to Bart. Rather than the Disappointed Father Look _ _ , he was giving Bart the Disappointed Husband Look _ _. “Yeah, well, Daddy doesn’t always set a good example.”  _

_ Ouch, that stung. Bart knew he had switched back to English to make a point. He supposed he should say something to placate his husband.  _

_ “Your father’s right,” Bart said, raising a hand to rub at his nape, “Just because you see me do something, doesn’t mean you should do it, too. I make stupid choices sometimes. Your father and I don’t want to see you get hurt because you tried to copy some stupid thing you saw me do.” Bart knew he would have to try to set a better example from now on. While Nat had taken after Jaime in the looks department, she had inherited Bart’s powers and personality, including his recklessness and impulsivity.  _

_ Jaime sighed. “Well, now that that’s out of the way, we really need to get going.”  _

_ Bart looked at the clock hanging on the wall. They only had ten minutes if they wanted to make it on time. The Young Justice team was holding an induction ceremony for all of its new members, of which Nathaley was a part. Bart and Jaime had decided to go to show their support.  _

_ “We’ve still got ten minutes,” Bart commented.  _

_ “Plenty of time,” Nathaley agreed with a smirk.  _

_ Bart met eyes with his daughter, sharing a knowing look. Then, at once, they both ran to the front door, and out onto the porch at superspeed.  _

_ Jaime groaned loudly behind them. “¡No corras en la casa!”  _

A chuckle escaped Bart’s lips as he grabbed onto the wooden railing. Slowly and surefootedly, he made his way up the stairs. When he reached the top, he stopped to give his knee a little break. The second level of the house split off in either direction from there. To Bart’s left were a bathroom and Nathaley’s old room. To his right was his and Jaime’s bedroom. 

Like the hallway on the lower floor, the creme walls had lighter patches discoloring the paint job. Bart remembered family portraits hanging on the walls; a picture of him and Jaime on the Fourth of July, grinning at the camera and waving red and blue sparklers; a photo of all three of them in the mandatory ugly Christmas sweaters standing in front of their festively decorated tree; selfies from his and Jaime’s honeymoon in Spain; a collage of images of Nathaley at all different ages as she had grown up. All of it gave Bart a warm feeling in his chest. 

He chose to turn right, running his hand along the wall as he went, each pale patch flashing an image in his head, like the very camera they had been taken with. When he reached the door, Bart paused with his hand on the knob. He knew once he opened it, he would be overloaded with emotion. He and Jaime had spent a lot of vulnerable, heartfelt moments in this room. 

With a deep breath, he pushed the wooden panel open. It was strange seeing the space that had once been so habitable, so empty. The dressers, nightstands, and bookshelf were gone. The closet was empty. The curtain rods had been stripped of their flowy, ruby drapes. Beige carpet was noticeably cleaner in the large, looming spot in the middle of the room where his and Jaime’s bed had once stood. 

_ Bart could only clearly remember a handful of the times he and Jaime had been intimate with one another in that bed, but for the times that did not particularly stand out against the rest, little details floated around in Bart’s subconscious. He and Jaime loved one another deeply, and were not shy about showing it. Every inch of Bart’s body had been touched and worshipped by his lover, and Bart was proud to say that he had returned the favor. Whether it was fast, hard, noisy sex, with the bed creaking, the headboard slamming the wall, and ecstasy-filled shouts into the night, or tender, slow lovemaking, with searing, passionate kisses, heavy petting, and the steady build up to a body-shaking, gasp-rendering climax, Bart regretted not a single time.  _

_ He loved the feeling of Jaime’s hot lips against the side of his throat, his strong hands against his waist, and the comforting weight of his husband over him. He loved the sensation of Jaime’s warm, slick skin rubbing against his own; of tangling his fingers through Jaime’s raven locks, and running his palms over the defined lines of his shoulders, chest, and back. He loved teasing Jaime; rolling them over to press his husband down into the sheets, or tracing patterns over the cornflower-colored shell of the scarab, just to send a shiver down his spine. He loved pleasing Jaime; hearing the different kinds of sounds he could drag from his lover’s throat, and the praises, begging, and sweetly whispered Spanish pet names in his ears as he brought his true love to a soul-shattering finish.  _

_ There had been days when they both returned home from their jobs, tired and stressed, and just needing to let off some steam. Days when they would pin one another down to the mattress and go hard. Mindless sex that said, “Thank you for being here for me,” and “I really need this.” There would be pink lines scratched across the skin of their backs, and dark purple marks marring the vulnerable junctions of their necks, and the bony crests of collarbones and hips. Grunted out curses, heavy panting and bitten back moans were the symphony that played as they plucked at the strings of one another’s bodies and pounded away.  _

_ Other days, they would barely scrape through dangerous missions, and fear would freeze their hearts until they could hear that reassuring, “I’m alright, Babe,” or “I’m safe, Cariño,” over the comms. As soon as their squads reunited on the Watchtower, they would slam into one another with a relieved kiss, tasting of blood, sweat, and dirt, but it wouldn’t matter, because they were together again. After quick showers, and zetaing home, they would waltz to their bedroom, stopping for tenderhearted kisses along the way, and then hold one another tight as they made love. All that mattered was the skin-to-skin connection; the physical evidence that they had survived yet another disaster that could have torn them apart irreversibly. Whispered, “I love you”s, “Te amo”s, and “I’m so glad you’re safe”s were the only language they both seemed to understand in those moments, and shared breaths, shared heartbeats, and a shared love chased away any residual fear.  _

_ At night, their intimate acts were but a distraction from the nightmares in their heads. Dream terrors wreaked havoc on both Bart and Jaime’s minds after so many years of superheroing, inner demons, and difficult pasts left behind. Some nights, one of them would wake up shaken to the core, tears streaming down their cheeks, or with a blood-curdling scream that they were sure even the neighbors could hear. From that point, it would be, “Please, I need a distraction. Give me pleasure to heal the pain I’m feeling. Chase away my fears with your love.” And this type of sex would be emotional; more times than not, filled with crying, sobbing, and tears. Hushing, shushing, and quiet reassurances became their love-language in these moments. It was these times that they were the most vulnerable with one another. It was these types of intimate moments that said, “I trust you completely.”  _

Bart’s eyes glassed over as he stared out the window in his and Jaime’s bedroom. He was lost in the past. It was hard to think that after so many years in this house, so many memories, he would be leaving it all behind. 

“Amorcito, what are you doing up here?” Bart startled and quickly spun around. 

Jaime was standing in the doorframe. Even at sixty-six years old, he still looked as handsome as the day Bart had met him fifty years ago. He had on a pair of gray sweat pants, tennis shoes, and a black tee shirt, which was stuck to his chest with sweat. Bart could see the outline of his six pack through it. (Even at their old age, he and Jaime remained very physically fit and active). 

Bart gave his husband a sheepish look. “Sorry I wasn’t much help with the boxes.” 

Jaime smiled. “It’s okay, Amor.” He walked forward into the room, and up to Bart so that he could place a kiss on his cheek. 

Bart blushed despite himself. 

“The movers are loading everything into the truck. We should be ready to go within the next hour.” 

Jaime wrapped his arms around Bart’s waist and stood behind him, looking over his shoulder as they both stared out the window. Down on the street in front of their house, a cluster of movers was shuffling about with labeled boxes full of Allen-Reyes possessions, carefully stacking them into the back of an orange and white UHAUL. 

Bart sighed plaintively. “I’m gonna miss our house,” he said. 

Jaime gave him a gentle squeeze. “I know, Amor. I’m gonna miss this place, too. But as long as I’m with you, I’m always home.” 

Bart chuckled. He spun around in Jaime’s arms so that they could face one another. “That was super cheesy.” 

Jaime laughed too. “I can’t help it. You make me all sappy.” 

Bart felt Khaji Da give a little chitter on Jaime’s spine underneath his shirt. He lifted a graying auburn eyebrow. “And what does Khaji have to say about your sappiness?” 

Jaime grinned. “Oh, he hates it. ‘Lowered defenses’ and all that. But it’s too bad for him. He’ll have to deal with it, because you’re my husband, and I don’t plan on going anywhere soon unless I can take you with me.” 

Bart rolled his eyes goodnaturedly. “C’mere, you sap. I’m taking one last kiss for the road.” He pulled Jaime in and smiled as their lips met. If this was the last memory he could create in their house before they moved, Bart was going to make it a good one. 

**Author's Note:**

> Leave me comments? I'm also cross-posting this story to my tumblr, where I'll be posting my stuff for the rest of Bluepulse Week, so feel free to hit me up there, too! [Link](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/paintingwithdarkness)


End file.
